Quite aside from the disturbing multiple personality disorder which leaves him waking from a rum soaked stupor with no memory of what "Peg-Leg" has done while he's been "away", he now believes that you can eat the provisions off of cards and escape from an island in a tiny little plastic boat.

The bright side is that he now happily accepts Spiel donations in Monopoly money.

(Besides why use a little plastic boat when you have a mahogany Canoe?)

That's another possibility, I suppose. As someone who's itching to open my birthday present to myself this weekend, a little number called Arkham Horror VIII: The Lurker At The Threshold ("This time it's personal."), I had assumed the poor lad had at long last failed his sanity roll and been carted off gibbering to the kind folks at Arkham Asylum. I know they certainly helped us- er, me. Me, I said me!